


Berry Season

by seashadows



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Family Feels, Food, Gen, Holidays, Young Bilbo Baggins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23333746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: Mid-year’s Day was Bilbo Baggins’s favorite holiday. Mummy’s was Yule, and Dad liked the first day of spring because he could start planting his garden. But they were both wrong, even though they were right about absolutely everything else. In the middle of the year, all the berries were ripe and the bees made enough honey for everyone to eat until they thought they could never eat again.(Little Bilbo Baggins meets three very important guests at his grandparents' smial.)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79





	Berry Season

**Author's Note:**

> For givemeadecentusername on Tumblr, who co-won third place in my follower giveaway. 
> 
> Thank you so much to lumateranlibrarian for beta-reading. :)

Mid-year’s Day was Bilbo Baggins’s favorite holiday. Mummy’s was Yule, and Dad liked the first day of spring because he could start planting his garden. But they were both wrong, even though they were right about absolutely everything else. In the middle of the year, all the berries were ripe and the bees made enough honey for everyone to eat until they thought they could never eat again.

Best of all, Bilbo’s family spent _every_ Mid-year’s Day at Great Smials with the Tooks, instead of switching off Tooks and Bagginses. He never had to spend the summer celebration with Cousin Otho, and that was better than any Yule present.

“Bilbo, have another honey cake,” said Gran Adamanta, filling his plate for him again. “You’re too much of a beanpole, just like your mother.” She ladled out more berry mix, and Bilbo licked his lips. “Ah, I caught that! You can have as much as you want, dear. I don’t see my Belladonna’s boy nearly as often as I’d like, and far less than he deserves.”

Bilbo clapped his hands and took his plate, sticking his finger in his own puddle of honey-berry syrup and then sticking it in his mouth. It tasted like sunshine. “Where’s Grandad?” he asked. He should have been at the head of the table, but now Bilbo noticed that he was gone. “Is he sick?”

“What?”

“Is he sick?” Bilbo said louder. He always had to shout when Cousin Sigismond and Cousin Flambard were being loud. “He’s a beanpole, too, Gran. He needs some honey.”

“Your grandad is off talking to some Dwarves,” Gran said, “Valar know why.” She tapped her chin. “Take your food and play with your cousins, my dear. Fresh air is healthy for a fauntling your age.”

Gran knew almost as much as Mummy, so Bilbo nodded and hopped off his chair. His older cousins knew the best games.

He wove his way through the forest of grown-up legs in the foyer and the family living room. There were lots of voices, and he thought he could hear Mummy, but not Grandad. That was a mystery, and Dad said that those were meant to be solved if you could be respectable about it.

“Grandad?” He ducked through a few pairs of legs. “Mummy?” A few of his uncles and aunts shushed him, but he didn’t mind. They were always shushing everyone – that was what grown-ups did. “Dad?”

He bumped into a thick pair of legs and looked up, then gasped. No one had _ever_ invited Big Folk to a family holiday, and this one had so much hair. “Mummy!” he cried. “Mummy, it’s a Mannish!” He pulled on the person’s long shirt. “Excuse me. Do you know where my grandad is?”

The person let out a laugh like a booming bell. “I’m not a Man, young fauntling,” he said. “I’m a Dwarf. I am Thorin of the Line of Durin.”

“Oh, Bilbo, there you are!” Grandad appeared over Bilbo and scooped him up. Bilbo put an arm around his neck and stared up at the stranger. He had a beard like the Stoors did, but much thicker. “Thorin, this is my grandson Bilbo Baggins, my Belladonna’s little lad. Bilbo, say hello.”

This was a guest, so that meant he had to be polite. “Hello,” said Bilbo. “Are you here for honey cakes?”

Thorin laughed again, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. Bilbo didn’t think he’d ever seen eyes that blue; they looked like a clear sky, the kind so bright that his eyes hurt when he lay in the grass and looked up. “I’m here to negotiate for food,” he said, “so I suppose I am. Are you here to offer me some?” He pointed to Bilbo’s plate.

“Oh. No, this is mine – but there’s more over there.” Bilbo pointed in the direction of the dining room. “You should ask Gran. She’ll give you some.”

“Bilbo!” It was Mummy, hands on her hips, with Dad right behind her. “Are you bothering this nice Dwarf?”

“No!” Bilbo protested. “He wants to talk to me.”

The Dwarf smiled and made a little bow towards his parents. “That I do,” he said. Big People were much politer than Hobbits, Bilbo thought; no one was that respectful to his parents, just Gran and Grandad. “My nephews would also like to talk to you, I wager. Fíli! Kíli!” He snapped his fingers. “Come say hello to the Thain’s grandson.”

A few moments later, two Dwarf fauntlings pushed through the gathered people to stand beside Thorin. “Yes, Uncle?” said the blond one, who was a little taller than the one with dark hair. They were both much taller than _any_ fauntling, but Bilbo thought they were probably about his age. Both of them wore braids in their hair, and clothes like Thorin’s. “What is it?”

“Boys, this is the Thain’s grandson,” Thorin said. “He can show you where the food is. Young Master Baggins, would you be opposed?”

Bilbo chewed on his finger. “What?”

“He asked if you mind taking Fíli and Kíli to get some honey cakes,” said Mummy. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Oh!” Bilbo said. That was much easier to understand. “But I already have some. Do you want it?” He held his plate out to the little Dwarves, whose eyes went wide. They looked hungrier than their uncle, so they could probably use it more than he could. “I’ve already had lots.”

“Can we, Uncle?” said the blond one. “Please?”

Thorin gave them a fond smile. “Of course, since Bilbo was so generous,” he said.

“I can show you where there’s more,” said Bilbo, wiggling to get down. Grandad put him on the floor without him even having to ask. “Come with me.”

When they got back to the table, the one with dark hair gasped. “There’s so much!” he said. “Is it all for us?”

“It’s for anyone,” Bilbo said. Hadn’t they ever been to a holiday before? Everyone could have as much food as they wanted. “Gran will give you some.”

“Bilbo!” Cousin Sigismond grabbed his arm. “Rosie found a bramble bush ‘s still got berries on it. Come on, we’ve got to go pick some!”

Berries that you picked yourself were even better than solving mysteries. “Have a good day!” Bilbo called over his shoulder, running after Sigismond. “’Bye!”

As he left the smial and ran to meet his cousins at the bramble bushes, he wondered if he would ever meet any Dwarves again. But he supposed he had a long time to find out.


End file.
